“He’s one of the best interviewers we have,” Chief Monahan says as he joins me in the room. “His tactics are a little strange, just thought I’d warn you.”
“Women, am I right?” Colton asks, and my hackles go up.
“She fucking kicked me out, man. I pay goddamn rent on that place. She didn’t have any right.”
“Legally, that’s your place, too,” Colton agrees. “I know I’d be pissed if I came home and saw all of my shit sitting on the front porch.”
“She did that shit while I was in the garage changing the oil in her fucking car.”
“Really?” Colton sounds angry by proxy by the way this murderer was treated. “That’s pretty fucked up.”
“The fucked up part is that chick she was mad about wasn’t even worth it, but the bitch wouldn’t listen. Bad sex shouldn’t fucking count, man. It was one mistake, and she just went apeshit on me.”
Milton throws his hands up in disgust, the one handcuffed only moving a few inches. I flinch with the action, but Colton doesn’t budge an inch.
“She hit you?” I could choke Colton right now. Blaming the victim? Not on my watch.
“Easy,” Monahan says, his hand on my arm, and I realize I took a step closer to the glass. “Just watch.”
“Hit me?” Milton scoffs. “The bitch wouldn’t dare.”
“So you were just pissed when you shot her?”
Milton doesn’t backpedal. He doesn’t open his mouth and ask for an attorney. He grins. The man fucking grins, and if I didn’t know that he was a murderer, I could see how Penny found him attractive. Surely she was able to see the malice in his eyes.
“She called the cops.”
“I’m a cop,” Colton reminds him.
“You’re just doing your job. She knew better. She knows not to get other people involved in our business.”
“Now she’s dead.”
“And I’d kill her again if I had a chance.”
“She’s fucking dead, man. You killed her.”
“I loved her, too.”
Misplaced sobs fill the room, and instead of Colton standing and leaving the room, having gotten the confession, he grabs a box of tissue from the side table and slides it in Milton’s direction. The man takes a couple, dabbing the tears from his eyes, and I’ve seen enough.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and since I told myself I was no longer going to work past the parameters of my internship, I let Monahan know I’ll be back to the station tomorrow morning and leave.
I give a hundred percent while I’m there, but I can no longer stick around. Colton wants professionalism. He said as much in his office earlier when I tried to kiss him, so professionalism is what he’s going to get. That means no more long hours. No more helping after five o’clock. No more dinners with low lighting. No more drunken texts or kitchen confessions. No sleeping at his house or showering in his home. No conversations with his parents or awkward interactions with his son.
I’ll come in, work, and leave. We won’t see each other in public. I won’t watch him from across the room. Hell, I won’t even work in his office anymore. The corner in the breakroom is noisy, but I’ll make it work. I only have a month left anyway.
I can’t face my parents, so I take the turn toward the clubhouse. There’s always something going on there, and if not, the indoor pool is always a fun time. When I pull into the parking lot, I see my dad’s SUV near the front door, so I turn right back around and leave the property.
I feel raw, like there’s an open wound in my chest which I know is crazy. I know it doesn’t make sense for Colton’s earlier rejection to hit me so hard, but here I am, miserable and wanting to vent.
Izzy has been distant lately, and I know she won’t be in the mood to listen to me complain about losing a guy I never even had, so calling her isn’t an option. The idea of going back to the station pulls at me, but I resist, wondering how long I’ll last before I cave.
I choose the gym instead, needing to release all of my frustrations. The kickboxing class is packed and twenty minutes in when I arrive, so I don’t join them. I hate when class is interrupted, and I wouldn’t do that to anyone else. The room with all the treadmills is steaming, thick with the perspiration and humid breaths of the after-work